Stay Till It's Friday
by lordvio
Summary: "You have to stay with me until the next Friday," the damn kid starts to drag me by my arm, almost ripping it out of the socket, and then ominously turns and bares his teeth into a creepy sneer, scaring me shitlessly. "You have to stay until it ends."


**One Friday  
**

Ten zero zero. Allen sighed and hoisted up the paper bags with groceries in his arms. He still had some time to get home while the buses were running. He took out his university student ID, the key to his free bus rides. A bus would come shortly and he would finally get to his cozy apartment in suburbs.

But the night was actually nice. And he felt like breathing in the half frozen March air. And the moon was out. What more could he wish?

He smiled to himself and paced away from the bus station, leaving the somber and half asleep people behind. And it was Friday. He always walked back home on Fridays.

As always, he walked through the dark Park where he passed by the Homeless Man, the one who had shaggy hair and dorky glasses. And as always, Allen silently offered him a sweet French roll, before nodding as Hello and Good Bye at the same time.

"Adeus," the Homeless Man would say grinning, giving him a deck of cards. And Allen would smile back, accepting out of politeness, and probably because he would once try and make a card castle out of fifty seven decks of cards he had received so far.

And then, as always, he would pass by _Potiron Noir_, where he had had a part time job once, serving French sweets to middle aged old men.

"_Bon soir_," Allen would murmur, as always, to the shaky young woman with dark circles around her eyes, and she would spill the milk she carried, apologizing over and over again.

"_C'est rien, madame_," Allen would reply, worried just a bit about the second mug of milk Miranda carried. And, as always, she would forget all her French at this point, sobbing in German and successfully dropping the second mug. Why she owned a French themed Cafe was a mystery to Allen.

And then it was simple. He'd turn left, cross the bridge and go through the Gray Blocks –he called them so- two condos of twenty something floors, standing side by side. He knew Fridays already as well as the back of his hand. It was a Friday, after all.

"What the hell are you staring at?"

Allen gripped his bag tighter and lowered his face. He could clearly see a pair of bare feet in front of him. He slowly raised his eyes, giving them time to grow accustomed to the strange and so UnFriday-like creature in front of him.

It was tall. And pale. And really skinny.

And naked. Stark naked.

"You deaf? I said: What the hell are you staring at, idiot?" The creature glared at him with sharp, steely eyes. Allen smiled, lost. It was Friday. He wasn't supposed to meet this- He stiffened, catching the hungry gaze of the creature in front of him.

Allen put his bags on the pavement and took out a tomato from the closest one. He silently held it in front of him, directly under the creature's nose.

"What the hell is this?" the creature seems lost and infuriated at the same time and Allen gleefully takes out another tomato, biting into it like an apple, showing an example.

"Tomato," Allen replies brightening, happy that he can at least say something here. And the creature frowns and stares suspiciously at the red fruit in the boy's hand, taken aback and disoriented. Then it gulps shyly, watching the boy eat in front of it.

"Oh, wait," the boy puts the offered tomato back into the bag, and takes off his long coat. Strange, why didn't he think of it before? Well, it was Friday, and Friday meant No Stripped Men between the Gray Blocks.

"Put it on, you must be cold!" Allen smiles at the creature, trying not to glance down. And the creature doesn't object, mutely wrapping its long and skinny body into the dark blue coat. It suddenly lifts its arms and takes its hair out of the coat's collar, letting it hang against its face.

"You're hungry, right? My house is just behind that Red Bridge," Allen points with a bitten tomato in his hand. The creature stares at him with a strange expression, frowning, displeased. Or annoyed.

"I could be a killer. Or a rapist," it says looking away, putting the hands into the coat's pockets. Allen raises his brows, letting his lips curls into a large smile.

"That's impossible. Those people exist only in newspapers and wanted posters. There is no way you're a killer," he starts laughing and shakes his head, amazed that the creature in front of him could be so illogical.

"Maybe you're an angel," Allen suddenly says, widening his eyes. And it makes sense: the pale, almost white face and dark, long hair are most likely an angel's. "You're a fallen angel," the boy whispers and smiles, proud that he figured it out. "Maybe you came to fight for justice," he continues, walking next to the creature, murmuring softly to himself.

"_Kan da_." He says quietly and looks up to meet the sharp blue eyes. "Love of peace."

The creature looks away, making a small strangled noise in the back of its throat. And then it frowns again, stopping directly in the middle of the Red Bridge.

"Go home," it says curtly, looking away, and making the wind pick up its black long tresses. "I can't go with you," it shrugs away when Allen touches the coat's sleeve. "I don't even know who I am. I could be a killer for all I know, so just go away," it says and Allen lowers his head. How come it doesn't understand? What's so hard to understand? It is Friday, after all! It's supposed to be so simple!

"You're Kanda," Allen grabs him by the hand and stares frowning into his eyes. "You fell from there," he points up and then negatively shakes his head when a plane passes the point he just showed.

"No, from there," he says again, lifting the tomato and indicating with it at a Cirrus cloud high in the orange sky.

"You have to stay with me until the next Friday," Allen decides, tugging Kanda to the end of the bridge. "You have to stand with me until it ends," he whispers and takes another wide bite off the tomato.

_______________

Oh hell.

The kid was poking me with a damn tomato. He even grinned maliciously, pleased that I was in such a humiliating state. Getting a steel pipe blow into the head and being mugged bareass-ly is humiliating. What's more humiliating is having a shitty kid poking your nose with a damn tomato.

"What the hell are you staring at?" I asked, hoping the he would just go away or blow up or just dissipate somewhere. He didn't. The damn kid took out another tomato and started biting wolfishly into it, like a starving Godzilla. He even winked, calling me to participate in the tomatocide.

Then he stared at me again with funny eyes, looking into my private area. What a pervert. The tips of his ears reddened like the blood of the tomatoes he just mercilessly devoured. Twenty four tomatoes. Damn you, kid.

And then he slipped from the girly coat he wore and started poking me with the last tomato standing, urging me to take the damn coat. Of course I took it. I don't like walking around naked, like a nudist. Those guys are wacked in the head; not even a good smacking will send them on the right track. Hell, they don't even have a right track.

And the kid tells me I'm hungry.

Well, duh!! Standing two days without food or water would make even Jesus hungry, and that guy starved for forty days! Some diet! But he wasn't stark naked. That's a big difference.

And the kid calls me to his house. I finally put my finger on it: The guy was cracked in the head.

Who in their right mind would call a bare assed dude they just met into their home?! Unless they were human trafficking, which is impossible for this kid here. I mean, he's small and thin and looks like a prepubescent girl.

And he's wacked. Really, what the hell is this kid thinking?

"I could be a killer, or a rapist," I tell him with the most frightening sneer I manage to form, and it's true; I don't remember anything at all. Just the fact that I woke up naked two days ago, with a bloody pipe smeared in my blood and my wallet next to me, completely empty.

And he says rapists don't exist, and grins at me as if he was the God of rapists. Creepy dude. He makes me shudder and I don't admit it, of course. Who would be afraid of a rapist prepubescent girly guy with a tomato in his hand?

Oh crap.

"Maybe you're an angel!" the creepy kid declared, grabbing my hand and shaking it, as if I have won the lottery. "You fell from the sky!" he continues and it really scares me what else I might be. "You're a fallen angel!" He yells with all his might, and I flabbergastly realize that I just have been promoted to the Lord of Hell position, Satan himself.

"Maybe you came to fight for Justice," he concludes and pokes me with the tomato, leaving a red stain on the girly coat.

About that he was right.

If only I could find the sons of the bitches who mugged me I would surely show them what justice means. And I probably would be able to retrieve my passport and finally know my own name.

"Kanda," the kid pokes me again and I have a strong desire to shove that tomato up his ass. "Love of justice," he sappily sheds a tear, a friggin' tear! And pokes me again.

That's it.

"Go home," I hiss through my teeth and avoid another tomato poke. "I can't go with you," I mumble, trying to get away- and fail when he looks at me with those gray scared eyes. Oh god. He might be cracked in the head and all that jazz, but I can't stand crying people or kids for that matter.

"I don't even know who I am. I could be a killer for all I know, so just go away," I try to beat some sense into him when he grabs me by the hand again, successfully mashing the tomato into my skin.

"You're Kanda," he stares at me with serious eyes and I really think I look appalled and horrified. I don't even know what that Kanda thing is, and –considering that I was an angel and became Satan- Kanda could mean something even more horrible that the overlord of Darkness. Or Barney. They're synonyms, for all I know.

"You fell from there," and the damn kid points at the military plane that had the indecency of peeping at our conversation. I stare up and wonder if I really was dropped from a plane, at least the loss of memories could be justified. If I hide the pipe.

"No, from there," the kid corrects himself and points at a feathery cloud that kind of resembles an octopus. Nice, now I'm Zeus and I just plopped down from the sky.

Wacko!

"You have to stay with me until the next Friday," the damn kid starts to drag me my arm, almost ripping it out of the socket, and then ominously turns and bares his teeth into a creepy sneer, scaring me shitlessly.

"You have to stay until it ends."

________________

Potiron Noir: Black Pumpkin.(French)

Adeus- Bye. (Portuguese)

C'est rien, madame- it's ok (nothing) ma'am (don't worry about it.)

Kan da- It's love of justice. (Japanese. _ Kan _also means _trunk_ /tree/ and _tin_ and _emperor. _I guess it's written differently.)

Um… my first time writing in the first person and Simple Present.

Allen's POV: I guess I read too much Mary Poppins. I really love the book.


End file.
